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Letter to John N. Coleman, February 8, 1863

01

Your lovely welcome and very devoted favor of the 18th inst. was received this morning, and I really don't know what to make of you. I thought every thing was going on so smoothly between us, and that you had long since ceased to doubt me, but I see you are again jealous. Why is it that you cannot trust me? Of course I will comply with every promise made to you, and I will expect you to do the same towards me. Have I not promised to be yours, and have I ever broken a single promise made to you? I know very well what your answer would be. But there are times when you think of me more than at others, and you become very anxious to see me, and your affections are deeper than ever. Then it is, you are afraid I have forgotten, or rather ceased to love you, for to forget you is impossible, which you know, and to cease to love is as improbable as to doubt my just existence. At such times you ought to ask yourself: "has she not always been true to me, although through sake of old family friendship she has received the attentions of others in my absence?" Then why should you make yourself miserable by for a moment doubting my constancy? I cannot remember what I wrote in the letters you have received, to insinuate any coldness of feeling on my part. But whatever it is, don't think any thing about it; for I only did it to tease you, and you say I must give and take. That, I am perfectly willing to do, but I don't take your jokes to heart, like you do mine. Your letters of late have been exceedingly interesting, although not so affectionate as formally, but I suppose you are like myself and don't feel in the humour [sic] to write an affectionate letter every time, or perhaps have not the time

Your lovely welcome and very devoted favor of the 18th inst. was received this morning, and I really don't know what to make of you. I thought every thing was going on so smoothly between us, and that you had long since ceased to doubt me, but I see you are again jealous. Why is it that you cannot trust me? Of course I will comply with every promise made to you, and I will expect you to do the same towards me. Have I not promised to be yours, and have I ever broken a single promise made to you? I know very well what your answer would be. But there are times when you think of me more than at others, and you become very anxious to see me, and your affections are deeper than ever. Then it is, you are afraid I have forgotten, or rather ceased to love you, for to forget you is impossible, which you know, and to cease to love is as improbable as to doubt my just existence. At such times you ought to ask yourself: "has she not always been true to me, although through sake of old family friendship she has received the attentions of others in my absence?" Then why should you make yourself miserable by for a moment doubting my constancy? I cannot remember what I wrote in the letters you have received, to insinuate any coldness of feeling on my part. But whatever it is, don't think any thing about it; for I only did it to tease you, and you say I must give and take. That, I am perfectly willing to do, but I don't take your jokes to heart, like you do mine. Your letters of late have been exceedingly interesting, although not so affectionate as formally, but I suppose you are like myself and don't feel in the humour [sic] to write an affectionate letter every time, or perhaps have not the time

to devote to the writing of such a letter, but at the same time we feel it our duty to write, if but a few lines, to relieve the great anxiety, which would be caused by silence. Such has often been the case with me, and if my letters do seem cold you must not attribute their sentiment as a want of affection within my heart. Another thing is the uncertainty of your even receiving my letters is because I do not write as when we were first engaged, and also what is the use of forever telling our love. Why I know you would soon get teased, if I should proclaim my affection every time. Plus I don't believe in saying anything to cause you to feel gloomy and knowing too, there is no chance for an immediate explanation. I generally try [to] be cheerful when communing with you, although at the time I may feel very sad.

Yes my cherished one I know you still love me, and your letter has led me to believe that you love me more than ever. You will never have any cause to quit loving me, for when I become your wife, I intend by help from God to do my duty, faithfully to the end. You will never have to say that I have neglected you to accommodate anyone living. I wish it was so that the Confederacy could supply you with a better wife than I will be. I have no doubt but what the country could supply thousands that are more beautiful winning and accomplished than myself, but not one who could be more affectionate, and as you have made your choice, you will have to put up with my faults.

You cannot be more anxious to see me than I am to once more behold you [illegible] dear friend. If you come home this Spring you will not be able to come next September, and I rather you should come then, if you succeed in obtaining a leave of absence before the war is over. I am very happy to know you are enjoying good health, and your hair is growing out thick and black. After all I will not have a gray baldheaded

husband. But I don't like very long whiskers.

Our friend Steve has just come. I distinctly heard his voice from my window - he looks very well indeed. Hee --[illegible] McKay is with him. Col. Lane has entirely recovered [and] weighs 167 pounds, most as much as you do. I keep my old weight - 100 and am enjoying splendid health.

Your poor brother Tom is very sick with pneumonia. He is at Mrs. Spoke's. I sincerely hope he will recover, for I have already learned to love him very much as a brother. Poor fellow [;] he takes the death of our angel Bettie so hard. Since the taking of York(?) past 16th Davis seems very gloomy. Mrs. H. is about as sad as ever although her husband is not a prisoner. Eric was at church today and looks extremely well. Dr. Taylor's arm is nearly well.

I know you have heard many things concerning myself and John Williams, and enough to make you believe he intended to address me, but like a true good friend as he is he came to me, after hearing the report about his intentions, and so on, and told me that he had no idea of addressing me, for he believed I was engaged and he would not be guilty of trying to take so grievous an advantage of one whom he esteemed so highly as yourself. So your fears are ungrounded when the truth is known. He left last Thursday for Cuba. I hope he may return in due time, and that success may crown his undertakings. I sincerely hope the above is sufficient to satisfy you, for although your letter proves your love to be ten-fold I don't like to have the least misunderstanding between us.

God bless you my dearest; though I am separated from you by hundreds of miles, my heart is ever with you, my prayers daily offered up for you, my good wishes ever exercised in your behalf. I know I have yours in return. May God comfort you in your hours of sadness and protect your precious life.

I received the magazine you sent me and must thank you a thousand times. I also received the "Memphis Appeal["] of Dec. 20th some time ago. Your name was not on it, and I could not tell whether you sent it or not.

I wrote to you last Sunday a very poor letter, but you must excuse it, for I have had company for two months up to yesterday. It is quite a relief to be alone once more, and have the pleasure of writing to you as I wish.

Again, God forever bless you, dearest; may every success attend your endeavors. What happiness may await you here and hereafter is the heartfelt prayer of

Your lovely welcome and very devoted favor of the 18th inst. was received this morning, and I really don't know what to make of you. I thought every thing was going on so smoothly between us, and that you had long since ceased to doubt me, but I see you are again jealous. Why is it that you cannot trust me? Of course I will comply with every promise made to you, and I will expect you to do the same towards me. Have I not promised to be yours, and have I ever broken a single promise made to you? I know very well what your answer would be. But there are times when you think of me more than at others, and you become very anxious to see me, and your affections are deeper than ever. Then it is, you are afraid I have forgotten, or rather ceased to love you, for to forget you is impossible, which you know, and to cease to love is as improbable as to doubt my just existence. At such times you ought to ask yourself: "has she not always been true to me, although through sake of old family friendship she has received the attentions of others in my absence?" Then why should you make yourself miserable by for a moment doubting my constancy? I cannot remember what I wrote in the letters you have received, to insinuate any coldness of feeling on my part. But whatever it is, don't think any thing about it; for I only did it to tease you, and you say I must give and take. That, I am perfectly willing to do, but I don't take your jokes to heart, like you do mine. Your letters of late have been exceedingly interesting, although not so affectionate as formally, but I suppose you are like myself and don't feel in the humour [sic] to write an affectionate letter every time, or perhaps have not the time